Hardware Time

by

jonathan toews stanley cup

This evening the Stanley Cup was presented to the Chicago Blackhawks in Philadelphia, won in overtime on a goal by Patrick Kane. It was a moment before anyone besides Kane realized the puck has slipped by a stunned Michael Leighton and the Hawks swarmed the ice to celebrate. Before long the wild whooping had subsided for a moment while the handshakes were taken care of. A few moments after that, a shining silver trophy was brought onto the ice, it’s gleaming highlights reflected in the eager eyes of the men who had earned it.

That traditional skate around the ice, Cup held high, just never gets old, does it? Not when you see the looks on those faces, both the fresh faced youth and the seasoned veteran. They know what it means and it means a lot. It’s the Stanley. Frickin’. Cup.

There will be a lot to discuss about this series and the NHL season that it concludes. The Finals were quite excellent, living up to full billing. The talented Hawks were deserving winners and the Flyers characteristically never quit, knotting up the game at 3 late in the third period to send it to overtime. It only took four minutes and six seconds for Kane to settle things, however, and bring the city of Chicago it’s first Stanley Cup in 49 years.

Jonathan Toews was awarded the Conn Smythe as the playoffs Most Valuable Player. The Cup was skated around the Wachovia Center where the Philadelphia fans were, for the most part, respectful, gracious losers. Their team had no reason to hang their heads for long. Props go to both teams for a hard fought, entertaining championship.

In depth analysis can wait as it’s late and tonight is a night to soak it in. So, in closing, I’d just like to sincerely thank Jeremy Roenick for one of the most awkward moments in sports broadcasting history as he began to cry on air in the post-game wrap up and had to be consoled by Mike Milbury and Dan Patrick to keep him from melting down and sobbing openly on the set.

“Because it’s the Hawks and I never got to do that,” he said in explanation while Milbury patted his back and told him what a great player he was and that everything would be okay.

It was such a pathetic sight, truly cringe-worthy. In the background the guy that washes the Hawks’ practice towels is hoisting the most hallowed trophy in the history of professional athletics and Roenick’s having a psychotic break with images of Patrick Roy screaming through his brain like he’s on a freaky boat ride through a tunnel with Gene Wilder and a bunch of bronze-faced midgets. I hope to Christ someone took the guy’s belt away from him before he left the building.

I mean, if he’d only signed a one day contract as Brent Sopel’s official stick-taper he could have been out there on the ice with the rest of them hoisting that shiny Cup and all his dreams could have come true.

There, there, Jeremy. It’s a cruel, senseless world, we know. But everything is going to be okay. We promise.

Especially in Chicago.

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9 Responses to “Hardware Time”

  1. Chippy McGuinness Says:

    Yeah, yeah. You’ve had me locked in the basement of KSWNO headquarters since seconds after the OT puck passed Leighton. CAN I PLEASE COME OUT NOW!? I promise I’ll only hurt like one or two people. I’m already on stage four of the grief process. Plus I’m kind of hungry.

  2. Ken Socrates Says:

    After the parade. There’s some old c-rations and half a case of Schlitz in the boiler room, left by former janitor Floyd “Crusty” Clemmenger, may he, and all of his victims, rest in peace. Meanwhile, I want you to write down your feelings as therapy.

    And by that, I don’t mean scribbling “I want to hook Patrick Kane up to a stack of car batteries and a metal wire bed frame” on the wall seven thousand times. In human blood.

    Does anyone know if Jeremy Roenick made it through the night? If so, has he stopped weeping yet?

  3. Chippy McGuinness Says:

    I only want to do that to Kane to keep him from his filthy habit of beating up elderly cab drivers. It’s a public service, not a vendetta. But I hear that Roenick cheered up after Milbury gave him a lollipop and promised to take him to the zoo in the morning.

  4. Gonz Says:

    Do y’all realize this is the second Big Game this year that Philly has lost in OT? First, the Winter Classic and now this.

  5. Chippy McGuinness Says:

    OH, RUB IT IN, ASSFACE.

  6. nightfly Says:

    If the Rags had made it instead of Philly, they would have lost in the first round to Jersey in five games. Then Montreal beats the Penguins (heheheheheheheh), Boston has to slug it out with the Devils (uh-oh), and in the conference finals, it’s BRODEURRRRR WITH THE SPRAWLING SAAAA–

    *bzzzzzzzzzt*

    Sorry, Doc Emrick walked in on me. Had to tase him. I mean, Marty was just stopping a dump-in from center, for crying out loud.

    Where were we? Oh, yeah… Hawks and Devils in the finals, and Doc Emrick screeching more than usual, and the overblown hagiography of Mar-TAN Bro-DURE continues. I still think the Hawks win, but oy that would have been trying. This way, we got gritty gutty underdogs, a great comeback, and Pronger in a skirt, so everybody wins! Let Chippy out of the boiler room and let’s all go grab a beer.

  7. KofC Says:

    Oh, finally, people can shut up about the “Hossa curse.” But I’m quite all right with the Winter Classic curse and President’s Trophy curse getting reinforced this year.

    Now I’ll probably crack under the pressure of being a blogger for the winning team and having to write about that (if I hadn’t cracked under the pressure of the playoffs already). How disgusting is it that the 2009-10 Blackhawks are the first sports team of any kind I followed with any seriousness, and they won it all? (Should I follow the Leafs next year, then? …uh, I’ve had about 90 minutes of sleep.)

    I’d say more but I’ve got to spend the day chasing down copies of Chicago newspapers. If I sell enough on eBay maybe I can even afford to go to a Hawks game next season! (shedding tears for the end of getting into a game for $15…)

  8. Ken Socrates Says:

    YOU let Chippy out of the boiler room, ‘fly. By now there’s a four foot length of cast iron piping with my name on it waiting on the other side of that door.

    And chances are that hitting me over the head with it is the LAST thing she has planned.

    Beer sounds good, though.

  9. Gonz Says:

    I guess another way to put it, Chippy, is that #88 ruins the Stanley Cup for Philadelphia again.

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